The Show Goes On
by cptraydorsgf
Summary: or, In Which Brenda and Sharon Talk   This is the sixth installment of this story.  It immediately follows "The Aftermath," as well as the storyline of "Necessary Evil."


**A/N: Finally, the sixth installment! This was difficult for me to get written, I'm not quite sure why. This follows the storyline of "Necessary Evil" where the high school principal was killed and I tried something a little different this time. Where the other installments have read (to me) like long scenes, I tried to cut this into short little scenes, which are separated by the little squiggly lines. This directly follows my story "The Aftermath" which ended with Brenda experiencing cyber sex with a female stranger and Sharon re-connecting with her ex-wife, Brooke. **

It's late, dark enough to blanket the streets and sidewalks in dark blue and for the yellow tape to shine almost obscenely. Sharon takes a deep, fortifying breath as she pulls up to the crime scene. Over the past two months, it's gotten easier, seeing the Chief. Every crime scene feels a little less like a test of her self-control and every time she has to work with Brenda, she feels a little bit less like the woman who made the blonde scream in orgasm and more like the woman who is investigating a leak in her division. But Sharon is checking her make-up and smoothing down her hair before she can stop herself. She will be swift, efficient and wholly focused on the task at hand; which is to ensure Major Crimes accurately and fully complies with all departmental rules and regulations while they are under threat of this federal lawsuit. She will continue to observe the Chief's team interact with one another and their leader in an attempt to uncover the leak. She can do her job. She doesn't feel anything for Brenda.

She feels everybody rolling their eyes when she seizes on Tao's mistake with the log, but isn't bothered. This is how it should be; this is how it will always be; this is how it feels comfortable. She makes a big show of looking around for the Chief, as if she doesn't know the woman is there somewhere, as if she can't feel her. The Chief pops up from behind the car and Sharon immediately reprimands her for not signing in, for focusing on the one flaw that gorgeous woman has. Sharon notices the way her hair curls around her face and she averts her eyes before Brenda notices her looking. Maybe she still feels a little bit like the woman who knows how to make Brenda come.

For Brenda, numb isn't the right word, but it's the one that comes to mind. The transition from illicit lovers to impersonal co-workers was so seamless, so smooth that Brenda sometimes can't believe she is the same woman who was inside of the Captain with a strap on. The Captain immediately lays into her about forgetting to sign in and she is oddly grateful. This is familiar and comfortable and this she knows how to deal with. Really, nothing has changed. She hardly ever thinks about their little tryst all those weeks ago. She can even dust off her coat and walk towards the Captain, feel the heat of her body, smell her vanilla perfume. And maybe her voice sounds a little breathy, but at least it doesn't falter. Brenda can do this. This is how things are supposed to be. "You know what?" She finds herself saying. "Why don't we get as many of your questions answered as we can right now?" After all, Sharon is helping her by being here. And she is not affected by her presence in the slightest. She can remain professional. She can be cooperative. This absolutely isn't because Brenda knows how Sharon looks when she is writhing in pleasure.

Sharon doesn't look at Brenda, not when she's so close, not when she seems so…soft. Soft like she is when she's in bed with Sharon, soft like the skin that sticks to Sharon's own when they're slicked with sweat. She can be professional as long as she doesn't see the woman's eyes. Kendall the ME takes Brenda's attention away from Sharon and she lets out a breath. The woman affects her still, after all this time, but she affects her less and less every day. Brenda turns back to her and Sharon makes a point of looking her squarely in those brown eyes, Captain Raydor mask firmly in place, just to prove she can.

They slip easily into discussing the case and the white noise that has been fuzzing in the back of Brenda's head fades to be replaced by facts and theories. Everything gets pushed to the side for the dead principal, the time of death, the sobbing wife, the bullets. She understands all of this and all of this is something she can help with, something she can do right. This is where both she and Sharon are at their best anyway. And it doesn't matter that Sharon looks more beautiful than Brenda has ever seen her look because they're over, they ended things. Brenda doesn't have any right to reach out and stroke the soft looking hair, not anymore. And it doesn't matter if there was a moment, right before Sharon asks about RACER, where Sharon's eyes flashed with…something.

She blinks against her thoughts as she follows Sharon into the tent. "You know a semi automatic weapon was used just from looking at a single bullet?" That voice jars her and she smirks to herself as Sharon thoroughly puts Lieutenant Provenza in his place. The Captain really is something else and Brenda just knows she won't take that attitude from Lieutenant Flynn, either. "I wasn't asking for a lesson in elementary ballistics, Lieutenant. I simply want to know if you are assuming a single shooter. Is that what you are doing?" Brenda's smirk deepens. As icy and detached as that woman is now, Brenda knows that she moans when she comes. She melts in Brenda's mouth and shivers under her hands and tastes like spicy honey on her tongue. Her nipples are the color of peaches and her hips arch when she's close and her eyes darken when she's aroused. She has an eight inch strap on and knows how to use it to make a woman wild with need and beg her for it. These silly little men who snip at and squabble with her have no idea who they are dealing with. Briefly, Brenda thinks that if she and Sharon ever did get together, they would own the entire LAPD. The visual teases her the entire way back to the precinct, hissing in her ear behind David's rambling. Sharon in her power suit and Brenda in her red dress, sharing Pope's office with ten collar stars between them.

Standing between her husband and her ex-lover, pretending everything is fine, is easier than Brenda thought it would be. She's focused on her case, Fritz is trying to maintain control of his investigation while not pissing her off enough to make her stop talking to him again and Sharon is at the periphery being as professional as always. She can't possibly even be worried about it now because if the FBI takes control of this investigation, she won't ever solve this homicide so her personal problems will just have to wait. She'll just have to ignore Sharon and ignore Fritz and ignore this little flutter in her stomach that tells her this is not a good moment and focus on doing her job. She's much better at her job than her marriage, anyway.

Sharon watches Brenda and Fritz argue back and forth, interrupting to ask the questions she absolutely has to and is surprisingly unperturbed. She thought she would feel guiltier than she does; after all, this is a fellow law enforcement officer and she has had her head buried between his wife's legs, but she doesn't. Seeing them together gives her a perverse sense of pleasure because they are clearly getting along. Their marriage is clearly still going strong, which means Sharon was right to end things, which means she has no reason to have any regrets. They might have spent a couple nights together, but it wasn't really an affair and they broke it off when they decided it was wrong. And Brenda isn't sleeping with anyone else, she knows; she would be able to tell just by looking at her. Which means Brenda isn't a cheater by nature which means nothing could possibly be gained from Fritz ever finding out.

"Since when does the FBI care about high school principals?" Brenda demands.

"A TSA Agent was fired upon!"

"Driving the same type of car as my victim." Sharon just watches; Fritz is a fool if he thinks he will win this. "So, unless you think the killer just really hates German cars," Sharon smirks at that. "Then your TSA Agent was mistaken for my principal."

"Or your principal was mistaken for my TSA Agent."

"Well, now you're just bein' silly." He looks like he wants to throw up his hands in frustration and a possessive little part of Sharon can't help but cruelly think that Fritz isn't even on Brenda's level. And as Fritz goes to sit down and Brenda turns to face her, Sharon can't help but be impressed with her. Here they are, discussing a case in front of her husband with perfect calm. She is as focused and articulate as she ever is and Sharon can be professional and detached as well. After all, she was the ice bitch first.

Sharon takes a deep breath, readying herself for what she is about to do. The idea came to her one night while lounging in bed with Brooke and she thinks it's time. When she puts her folder aside, she sees something flash in Brenda's eyes. "What is it?" She looks almost…nervous.

Sharon forces herself to look Brenda squarely in those brown eyes. "Asking all these questions at every one of your crime scenes for the past two months…I am feeling less like a Captain and more like a hall monitor every day. I understand the importance of the federal lawsuit we are facing, but I am not convinced that my constant presence in your division is necessary. And there is something else. There is something else that I have been meaning to tell you."

Buzz interrupts before Sharon can open her mouth again and Brenda has never been more thankful for him. She whirls away from the Captain as fast as she can because it sounds like Sharon wants off of this investigation. She wants to go back to her division and her investigations and her paperwork and if that happens Brenda will probably never see her again. And she's over their little fling, way over it, but she doesn't want to hear that yet; she isn't ready for that. She needs just a little while longer of stealing little glances at the woman and breathing in her perfume. Just a little longer, like savoring the last morsel of a ding dong. But when she turns back from talking with Buzz, Sharon is gone anyway.

Brenda is tossing and turning again, the covers constricting around her body. Fritz is sleeping soundly beside her, evidently used to her restless fits. He probably assumes it's because of this case. And it is. Because she is no closer to discovering why anyone would want to murder a high school principal than she is to uncovering the leak in her division. To finding the person she trusted blindly enough to not see him stabbing her in the back. She is better than this, more cautious than this, and she doesn't know how she missed it. If she can't even uncover the betrayer amongst the people she knows best, what business does she have solving crimes for strangers? How is she even qualified for her job? But, she shifts again, rolling on her side, if Goldman wins this federal lawsuit, her job won't be an issue anyway.

And then there was that girl in the coffee shop today, with the rainbow pin on her apron. It's been seven weeks, almost two months, since she and Sharon ended their…thing. Eight weeks ago she probably wouldn't have even noticed the pin, or maybe mentally commended the girl on having the courage to display it so proudly. But today she couldn't stop staring at it. She had almost missed her drink coming out. Then, lost in her memories, she had nearly bumped into the two women holding hands near the door. She had been startled. Maybe she's just more aware of them now, but there are lesbians everywhere. The two brunettes kissing each other good bye at the bus stop, the butch looking women with the matching bands on their fingers, the teenager opening the door for her female companion, the bikini-clad surfer girl playfully smacking her partner's ass at the beach. The desk sergeant whose name she can never remember and who has never caught her attention suddenly looks a little, well, gay to Brenda. What with her severe ponytail and lack of make up and masculine stance and husky voice. Not that she stereotypes, of course, but she wouldn't be surprised to see whatever her name is at the gay club with a female date is all. Then there was the woman she passed on the sidewalk, a lovely redhead with cute freckles, braids and sparkling eyes. Her drapey tee had a pink triangle on it and her necklace was a rainbow dog tag. She had looked at Brenda. Brenda heaves her body onto its other side and sighs. She had looked at Brenda, trailed her eyes over Brenda's body, and smiled a little bit to herself. Brenda is unused to that look from women, but that doesn't mean she doesn't know what it is; she's seen it enough on men. Interest, attraction, desire, appreciation. And her body had flushed, just a little bit, at being so openly admired by such a beautiful woman. She pulls her knees up to her chest, then kicks out her feet. She just cannot get comfortable! Could the redhead tell, Brenda wonders, just by looking at her? That she is…whatever she is? That she's a kindred spirit? To a point, anyway. Does she give off some kind of…vibe now?

With a muted groan, Brenda kicks off the sheets, flails angrily, and swings her exhausted body out of bed. Before she can process having made the decision, she is stalking to her computer and violently turning it on. She has the website pulled up before she even registers she probably shouldn't be doing this. She sees Carly's handle, GLBT_ADA, and lets her cursor hover over it, finally hesitating. The decision is made for her, though, when a private message pops up.

Well, hello Brenda. Brenda's eyebrows raise. Carly remembered her name.

Hello. She greets back.

I was starting to think I would never see you on here again. The message blinks on Brenda's screen. She doesn't know what to say to that. How have you been?

Brenda starts to type that she has been fine, but deletes the letters. I've been better. She says honestly.

Why is that? Brenda thinks about the friend who is betraying her, the tenuous hold she has on her job, the state of her marriage.

I miss her. She finds herself typing and she thinks it's the most honest thing she's said in weeks. She snorts at herself, at her foolishness.

Have you not seen her since you ended things? Carly asks.

No, I've seen her. We work together, pretty closely together for now. I see her most days. Brenda can't help but feel an odd pain in her chest at the thought of those interactions. So professional, so appropriate. There is nothing in the Captain's eyes or her voice to even hint that she has seen Brenda naked, been inside of her and made her come. Brenda can only hope her behavior gives no indication that she knows how Sharon tastes and how she sounds in the throes of orgasm.

But you miss her?

Yes. Brenda replies. It's silly. I don't even know what we were to each other, what our little fling meant. She reads over her words and it occurs to her that maybe that's what is bothering her. She likes cases to be closed, to have answers and explanations and facts. She doesn't have any facts about Sharon, about what happened between them, why it happened and what it means for her. They shared several intimate encounters and yet never talked about what they were doing, if they had romantic feelings for one another and those loose ends are haunting her now.

So you feel like the story isn't finished? Carly clarifies and Brenda nods to herself. Yes, that is exactly how she feels. And it is her job, her greatest skill, to finish all the half woven stories that are brought to her. To fill in the blanks and box them up neatly. She just needs to put Sharon in a box but she can't do that until she knows what their little affair was.

Exactly. Brenda replies. We never said anything about what we were doing when we were sleeping together. It doesn't make sense.

What was it to you? Carly challenges and Brenda blinks. She hasn't ever asked herself that question. You said you cared for her. And you miss her. Do you want to be with her, romantically? Do you miss the sex? Do you want to start seeing her again? Brenda feels a distinct sense of unease creep over the back of her neck as she reads Carly's questions. What is she supposed to…how is she supposed to…she doesn't…she can't. It isn't that simple. She doesn't know what she feels, she doesn't want to know. She can't do this, she just can't think about these things. Things at work between her and Sharon have finally returned to normal; they've made it this far, to two months and she can't dredge all this up now.

I have to go. She types quickly and logs off, slamming her laptop shut and dragging her hands through her hair. She breathes deeply. The story isn't finished. She drops her head into her hands. How did she let this happen?

Standing in Pope's office, across from the massive des, facing him and Commander Taylor, Sharon is looking forward to this. She almost can't wait to say it, to unnerve them, unsettle them, to make them tell her how much they need her. It's one of them, she knows it, and she can't wait to be the one to prove it. This isn't about Brenda Leigh Johnson right now; now this about sticking it to the men who have underestimated her for years.

"I've had a job offer." The dumbfounded looks on their faces are oh so priceless. "Director of Internal Threats and Security at the Los Angeles Convention Center." The phony job title was Brooke's idea. "I can't even say hello to anyone outside the Professional Standards Bureau without provoking a defensive response. Between that and a few things in my personal life, I feel that it's time for me to go." That part is almost true and she feels a momentary, and very unsettling, twinge of disappointment that none of this is real. She and Brooke are getting along better than they have in years, Nora is considering moving back home after Law School to take the bar exam in LA and Sharon has accomplished much during her time in IA.

"Replacing you with a lower ranking officer isn't even possible. I have no one else for this job." Pope explains, an edge of desperation to his voice. It isn't a thank you and it isn't a commendation for her good work, but it's as much as Sharon will get.

"Can't do it anymore, I'm sorry, sir."

"Alright." Pope sighs heavily and squints at her. "When this promotions freeze is over, I will make you a Commander." Sharon's eyebrows raise at that. Oh this is excellent. She doesn't even have to look at Taylor's smarmy face to know how he would feel about that. Sharon attaining his rank, it's almost good enough to make her smirk and blow this whole thing. Still, she has to clench her jaw tight enough to hurt to stop from bursting out laughing at what she's sure is Taylor's expression of indignation.

"Thank you, Chief." Sharon thinks that just might have been enough to convince her to tell the Los Angeles Convention Center to go to hell, if the LACC had any idea who she was of course. Oh, to be on rank with Taylor who absolutely despises her, that would be delicious. "But I feel I've had enough." Pity.

The moment Sharon has been waiting for comes remarkably quickly. The Major Crimes team, sans their fearless leader, is searching Coach Karr's backyard for trophies. Trophies, not guns, how many times does she have to remind them? It is Lieutenant Provenza of all people who asks her when they can start planning her retirement party. Her voice is even and calm, but she is fully alert and her heart is beating a rapid tattoo in her chest. "Who told you I was retiring?"

Lieutenant Provenza scoffs. "Well, you said it in front of Taylor, didn't you?" Sharon purses her lips. Taylor. Of the two men she had baited, he wasn't actually her first suspect. And it's only now that Sharon acknowledges her suspicion of Will Pope might be less of a professional thing and more of a he-has-seen-Brenda-Leigh-Johnson-naked thing.

Brenda is glad that the boys living with Coach Karr weren't sexually abused, of course she is, although that does complicate this case. What motive would he have for killing Reed if not to cover up sexual abuse? And why would he risk his job and his pension to take in three stray kids if not for some nefarious purpose? And why was that one boy so defensive when he was questioned at the house? And if the gun-

"Kinda like Raydor, huh?"

What-huh? Raydor? Did Fritz just mention Sharon? "Wha-like Raydor how?" What are they talking about?

"Well, didn't she tell you?" What? Brenda thinks dizzily. Has Fritz been talking to Sharon?

"Tell me…what?" She can do this; she can have this conversation. Fritz knows nothing.

"Well, apparently…Raydor thinks she should retire." Brenda's stomach hollows. Retire? "She hates checking up on you all the time, feels she's not wanted." No, her heart clenches in protest. Sharon can't think that. She has to know better than that, she has to know how much Brenda wants- "And supposedly has a great job offer."

"Oh…" Brenda whispers. This is her fault, this is all her fault. It's because of her, because of them, it has to be because Sharon loves the LAPD. She has dedicated her whole life to ensuring the force she loves lives up to the expectations it has for itself and she has sacrificed so much to do it. The woman is giving up her life because Brenda was a selfish bitch. And Sharon is leaving her, really leaving her. Fritz does a double take at the bereft expression on his wife's face.

"What? I thought you'd be happy to have her out of your hair." Never, not ever, Brenda thinks dizzily.

"Yeah, but…" She scrambles to explain herself. "She hasn't…found the leak yet." She can't leave me when I still need her.

Fritz's eyes narrow. "You don't believe there is a leak."

"That doesn't mean I'm…right."

Fritz looks shocked. "Amazing." He's only half kidding. He goes on to sum up the ballistics report for her and Brenda suddenly wants to laugh. She's sitting here eating eggs with her husband while Sharon is alone across town in her model kitchen about to leave the job she loves. This is wrong; this is all just wrong.

Sharon is intently studying a file, eyes focused behind her glasses, when her doorbell rings and jolts her out of her concentration. She furrows her brow; it's nearly ten o'clock at night. She gets up to answer the door when she hears it swinging open. "It's me!" She relaxes at hearing her ex-wife's voice. Sharon pads through the kitchen to the entryway and sees Brooke precariously balancing a pizza in one hand and trying to pry off her high heels with the other. Sharon rushes to help her, grabbing the pizza and offering the woman a steadying hand. "Thanks." Brooke blows her hair out of her eyes.

"I thought you had a date." Sharon says, handing the pizza back.

"I did. Total bust." Brooke gestures with the box. "I brought pizza." Sharon smirks.

"So I see." She gestures with her head for Brooke to follow her through to the kitchen. Brooke does, opening the box as she walks. She stops dead at seeing the cluttered kitchen table, eyes widening at the sheer volume of paperwork, files and notes.

"Jesus, Shar. Did you evacuate your whole office?" She sets the pizza on the island and snags a piece, twining the strands of cheese around her finger.

"Feels like it." Sharon grabs two plates and offers one to Brooke, who rolls her eyes, but takes it obligingly. Sharon picks up a piece for herself and takes a bite. "So, what was wrong with your date?" She asks between chews. Brooke rolls her eyes again.

"She was a closet case." Sharon raises her eyebrows. She hasn't heard that from her ex-wife in awhile. Normally, Brooke is all about the loud and proud types.

"I know!" She exclaims. "At forty-five can you believe that? Apparently no one knows, not even her family, and when I held her hand in the theater, she started looking around all panicked like someone might see." Brooke takes another bite of pizza and Sharon clucks in sympathy.

"Sorry honey." And she genuinely is; her ex deserves to find somebody. "That's tough." Brooke waves her hand dismissively.

"It's alright." She says lightly. "She was fantastic in bed." Sharon can't hold her back her laugh and she smirks even as she shakes her head.

"You're terrible." Brooke hums in agreement.

"Indeed. But enough about me. Speaking of younger closet cases…" Sharon rolls her eyes and glares.

"Don't start."

"I will start, Sharon Raydor." Brooke says, hands on her hips. "You still want her, I know you do."

"Whatever there was between me and Deputy Chief Johnson is finished." Sharon says firmly. "We're colleagues, nothing more. It was a mistake." Brooke snorts.

"Bullshit." She says. "You may be able to fool everyone in the LAPD, and maybe even yourself, but you can't lie to me. I know you care for her more than you're admitting." Sharon flicks her hand dismissively. "You have feelings for her."

"I do not." Sharon insists.

"You're turning your whole life upside down to try to find the leak in her division. That's not even your job."

"It is now." Sharon snaps. "If Chief Pope says it's my job, then it's my job. I am doing my job."

"You called out her name in your sleep the other night." Brooke says evenly and Sharon stills, back ramrod straight. "You want her back." Briefly, Brooke thinks Sharon might kick her out of her home, but then she sighs.

"I never had her." Sharon says finally, softly.

"She came back to you, two different times. She showed up at your door when she needed someone. Maybe you had her enough."

This is all wrong, Brenda thinks again as she sees Sharon and Pope approaching her. This is when she should be taking Sharon into her arms and shaking some sense into her, but all she can do is hold the her manila folder in front of her chest. It won't do much to protect her heart, but it's better than nothing. "Well," Brenda says, amazed at how even her voice is. "We've only been able to find one of the mothers and she says she's too busy to come down here until tomorrow morning. You want me to let these boys go? What if they get lost or hurt or involved in a crime? Goldman can end up recruitin' their parents for that federal lawsuit of his." She hopes she doesn't sound as hysterical as she feels. She turns to look at Sharon. "Or don't you care about that anymore?" Doesn't it matter to you that I could go to jail?

Sharon doesn't even flinch. "Where are the boys right now, Chief?"

"They're in the break room." Brenda replies and fine, she thinks. Fine, if everything means so little to you. "I figured if we can't release 'em we might as well feed 'em." Fine, if you're just going to abandon me to deal with this alone.

"Let me see if I can get the boys to help us locate their relatives, pardon me." Sharon can't stand there for one more second. She'll break if she does; she'll beg Brenda to understand and assure her she does still care and she promises she's only trying to help her, to protect her. And she can't, for so many reasons. Brenda wants to reach out and drag that infuriating woman back by her hair.

Something encouraging, Brenda thinks, as she looks into Sharon's beautiful green eyes. Something encouraging. The words come pretty easily when she doesn't censor them, when it's just the two of them in the murder room, when she ignores Captain Raydor and speaks directly to Sharon.

"You could say that the challenges he faced at work forced him to look for unorthodox solutions. And for going above and beyond the call of duty, he'll probably lose his job." It occurs to Brenda that she could be talking about both of them.

"Well, maybe it's time for him to move on."

"Oh, I don't know. He seemed to be doing important work. Even if it wasn't fully appreciated by his boss and fellow teachers. There's somethin' about that I find admirable." Sharon almost smiles at her, that soft smile that Brenda has only seen when they have been in private.

"Me, too." But when she speaks, it is Captain Raydor talking and Captain Raydor walking away from her and Brenda feels almost like she lost something she meant to hold on to.

Sharon is unsurprised to see Goldman's car outside of Coach Karr's house and she fights a juvenile urge to slash his tires. He's so smug, so cocky, so satisfied with his attempted ruination of a good woman's life and Sharon savors the look of fear on his face when she tells him she isn't retiring. He's another one, a foolish man who has underestimated her and she feels the thrum of adrenaline in her bloodstream when he blanches at her suggestion that she will get a warrant. She will outmaneuver him, too; she will make him rue the day he filed this lawsuit. She'll have his bar card if she can because when Sharon strikes back she aims to kill. And Brenda might not to be hers, but that doesn't mean Sharon won't do everything she can to protect her.

"Maybe I will retire after all." Sharon muses, hands sifting through Brooke's hair as the woman presses soft kisses to her stomach. Her laugh vibrates against Sharon's skin. With a soft lick at her navel, she rises up Sharon's body.

"Oh please." Brooke scoffs as she strokes Sharon's face. "You couldn't leave the LAPD any sooner than you could start sleeping with men." Sharon laughs because Brooke is right; she knows her too well. She grabs her ex's face in her hands and connects their lips, kissing her deeply, licking at the seam of her lips. But when Brooke opens for her, she pulls away.

"Well, how do you know I haven't been thinking about doing that, too?" Sharon deadpans and Brooke laughs, a full, joyous laugh before nipping at her collarbone and over her throat.

"Well why don't I remind you of why that would be a terrible idea?" She suckles at Sharon's pulse point and strokes up her sensitive side. "Hmmm?"

Sharon wraps a leg around Brooke's waist, drawing her body down onto Sharon's. "Why don't you?" She husks before re-joining their lips and shivering at the delicious feeling of Brooke's silken tongue and soft skin. The woman's hand slips between her thighs, cupping her swollen center and Sharon surrenders her body to pleasure, splaying her legs and moaning.

Fritz is just a little bit worried about Brenda. She has been twirling her spoon around in her bowl of ice cream for almost ten minutes, and hasn't taken a single bite. The glass of Merlot she poured is still sitting in her sight line untouched. In all their years together, he doesn't think he's ever seen her resist this long. Although, he studies her exhausted face, it doesn't look like she's actually trying. He takes in his wife's appearance. She looks more tired than he has ever seen her and smaller somehow, like she has been depleted. This whole leak thing has been devastating for her, he knows. She finally starting trusting people, opening herself up to friends, and she has been betrayed so cruelly. And this lawsuit. They've already been through this, survived it once, and Fritz isn't sure Brenda can handle it a second time. The things she's done…Fritz can't. He can't think about the things she is being accused of. The accusations in those files, those are a side of his wife he has never seen. Cold, calculating, deadly. Sometimes, late at night, when Brenda is tossing and turning beside him, he wonders what else she has done. He wonders what else she is capable of. He wonders how well he really knows her. Something is bothering her, something is keeping her awake at night that wasn't there during the last lawsuit, he can just feel it. He might not know all of her, but he knows her that much.

"Hell of a day." He offers and Brenda makes a little noise in the back of her throat that lets Fritz know she hasn't heard him. "Pretty crazy about Raydor, huh?" Brenda makes that noise again. Her reaction had surprised Fritz. Brenda seemed…upset and he hadn't expected her to be. It was another thing about his wife that had surprised him. Though it's a good thing, he supposes, her and Raydor cooperating. He imagines if they ever got to be friends, the LAPD would be in for quite the dynamic duo. He likes Raydor personally; she's professional and thorough and committed. She doesn't run off half cocked like his wife.

Sharon's going to be gone. The thought is like a sharp jab to Brenda's solar plexus. She isn't sure if it's because she has come to depend on the woman professionally or because of how she's come to know her personally. She knows how Sharon looks naked and flushed with pleasure, how she kisses and how warm her arms are. But it's more than that, Brenda realizes now. It's the crinkle of her smile and how proud she is of her kids and how she is understands people and how she is still involved with the woman she was married to for decades. It's her sense of humor and her capacity to give Brenda just what she needs. Without her consent, without her knowledge, somehow the woman has imprinted herself on Brenda's heart. And Brenda doesn't know what they were or what they weren't, what all this is and how she can be feeling any of the things she is for Sharon when she loves her husband so much. Sharon just affects her, gets to her in a way no one ever has, like Sharon has from the beginning. And the thought of Sharon not being in her life at all makes the piece of her heart that woman has claimed for herself pulse with pain.

Brenda is sharply jolted out of her thoughts by the weight of Fritz's hands on her shoulders. She tenses at the unexpected touch, then forces herself to relax as he begins a gentle massage. "It'll all be okay, Brenda." Fritz says softly. "We'll get through this." Brenda is suddenly hit by a nauseating wave of guilt. Fritz has been so good to her, so patient and kind and loyal. He paid for Gavin. Her heart clenches. And he didn't even correct her when she assumed Pope retained him for her. And she slept with someone else. She spent the past several weeks ignoring her loving husband to think about Sharon. He presses a kiss to her hair. "I love you." He whispers into her ear and Brenda desperately fights back tears. She can't believe what she has done to this man, this wonderful man who loves her so deeply and who is so committed to her. She stands and throws her arms around him. She can't lose him and the life they've built together. Suddenly she is achingly aware of everything she has inadvertently risked: their house, Joel, they're joint financial success, the way Fritz always knows when she's about to run out of ding dongs and buys her more, the stolen lunches in her office, her parents' approval of her marriage, the LAPDs cooperation with the FBI, early morning snuggling before the alarm goes off, being with someone who knows her so well, taking turns picking up dinner, Sunday morning bike rides, Fritz's endless support.

"I love you, too." She whispers into his neck because she can't look at him. Not when she knows her sins are reflected in her eyes. She needs everything she has with Fritz, would be bereft and empty and achingly alone without their life together. Sharon makes her ache, makes her burn and lights her body up. She feels things with Sharon that are as addictive as chocolate but she's an adult now and she needs to make the responsible choice, the right choice. She'll forget her mistake and she won't try to make Sharon stay. It's a good thing for her that the woman is retiring; she'll finally be able to move on.

Fritz is leading her to their bedroom and she is grateful; she wants nothing more than to collapse in bed and sleep for ten years. She wants to forget this case and the blank look in Sharon's eyes when Brenda snapped at her and the last two months of her life. She sheds her clothes and slips a t shirt over her head before falling into bed and closing her eyes. She feels the bed dip with Fritz's weight when he settles down next to her. Then his hand is stroking her face and she gradually accepts the touch. This is right, this is where she belongs. And she's back here, present with her husband for the first time in weeks, and it's the right decision. Fritz presses a kiss to her lips and she hums in acknowledgment. His hand slips under the covers and up under her nightshirt, flattening over her belly. He trails his kisses over to her ear, breath hot and heavy against her cheek. Despite her renewed commitment to her marriage, her body tenses. She can't, she isn't ready. She still feels Sharon's touch on her skin. Panic bubbles in her chest. She's different now, her body is different and Fritz will feel it. His hand moves lower and she rips her body away. His hands are too large, too rough, his skin against hers too coarse and hairy. His lips aren't nearly as soft enough and his touch is too firm.

"I'm tired." Brenda manages to squeak out, body wrenching itself away. She takes a deep breath. "Not tonight." But Fritz snags her around her hips and pulls her gently back.

"I'll do all the work." He nuzzles into her neck and wraps his hand around her thigh, lifting it and opening her. "Just lay back and relax, honey." Brenda's skin is screaming, wailing in protest, something oddly like fear settling between her thighs. Her body wants softness, smooth skin and curves. It wants long fingers and pouty lips and she can't. She just can't; if she lets Fritz do this terrible horrible things will happen. She doesn't know what they are, and she knows Fritz would never hurt her, but she can't think over the pulses of panic her body is sending to her brain. She has to make this stop.

"No!" She scrambles up, pulling away. Fritz looks at her bewildered.

"Brenda, what's the matter?" He reaches out to squeeze her knee and every muscle in Brenda's leg seizes, rebelling against his touch.

"Nothin's the matter!" She insists. Sharon is in her skin, Sharon's touch is burned into her nerves. "Just not tonight; I'm way too tired is all." Fritz sighs.

"It's been weeks." He keeps almost all of the accusation out of his tone.

"Well I've had a lot goin' on haven't I?" Brenda snaps automatically. "This terrible case and the federal lawsuit hangin' over my head and that god-awful leak!" Fritz rubs his hands over his face.

"Exactly. You're tense and stressed. Let me relax you." He caresses soft circles over her knee. "I miss you, Brenda. I miss making love to my wife." Brenda twists her hands together so Fritz doesn't see them shaking.

Her body won't react right to this, she knows it. She won't feel how she used to, before Sharon; the pleasure won't be the same. She's terrified and angry and guilty and what if she can never let Fritz touch her again? What if Sharon has ruined her? "I said no." The tone of her voice makes it very clear that the conversation is over and with a long suffering sigh, Fritz shakes his head and turns on his side, shutting off his light. Brenda stares at his back, eyes welling with tears, before following suit, curling her body into a ball. She tenses her thigh muscles against the accusatory pounding in her core. How can she let Fritz inside of her when her body still remembers the feel of Sharon there? How can she have sex with her husband and pretend she hasn't given that part of herself to someone else? She burrows further into the blankets. Her body wants Sharon and she is struck wildly by sheer terror at the thought it might never want anybody else again.

Sharon and Brooke tumble onto the sheets in a tangle of sweaty limbs, panting harshly. "So good." Brooke gasps and Sharon manages to nod her head, dragging a hand through her mussed hair.

Brooke sidles up to Sharon's side and fits herself into her curves, wrapping an arm around her waist. Sharon automatically strokes her back, burying her nose in Brooke's darker hair. "After nights like this I wonder why we got divorced." Brooke's voice is still breathy from lingering arousal. Sharon barks out a laugh.

"We got divorced because you're a stubborn, inflexible bitch." She says lightly, kissing her hair.

"Well far be it for you. Of all people." Brooke replies, nuzzling the side of her breast and laughing. They lay together, recovering bodies entwined, and just breathe for long moments. Brooke is the first to catch her breath and she nudges Sharon's calf with her toes. "So what are you going to do about Brenda?" Sharon sighs.

"And you're relentless."

"Indeed." They are silent for long moments. "You were thinking about her, weren't you?" Brooke asks, tracing nonsense patterns over Sharon's stomach.

"What makes you say that?" Brooke just rolls her eyes; she is used to Sharon's avoidance techniques. Answering a question with a question is one of her oldest and most favorite.

"You kept your eyes closed." She explains. "You always watch when I go down on you, but not this time. You're a visual lover. You were imagining her between your legs, weren't you?" There is no hurt in her voice, no anger and Sharon is suddenly exhausted.

"Maybe I was." She acknowledges because it would be pointless to lie. Brooke waits patiently for her to continue, squeezing her hip in encouragement, but Sharon stays silent. Brooke makes a noise of impatience.

"Well you should at least call her." Sharon turns to look at her, eyes still darkened.

"Why would I ever do that?" It sounds like the stupidest idea Sharon has ever heard.

"Because she thinks you're retiring! And you owe it to her to tell her the truth. She's probably a mess right now."

"Brenda Leigh Johnson is always a mess." Sharon retorts sharply. Brooke just shakes her head.

"You're involved, Sharon, in one way or another. Whether you like it or not. And the woman should know you're not up and abandoning her when she needs you." She sits up and scoots off the bed, grabbing Sharon's phone from the nightstand and tossing it at her. "Call. Her." Brooke snatches her t-shirt and pulls it over her head.

"Where are you going?" Sharon asks, watching her ex-wife dress.

"Home. I have an early meeting and I'm in trial in two weeks." She shakes out her hair and rests her hands on her hips, looking Sharon squarely in the eyes. "You say you can be professional and do your job." Her voice is almost challenging, but her expression is soft. Sharon gathers the sheet around herself and sits up in bed, rubbing the back of her neck. She knows Brooke is right, it's one of the reasons the woman is so infuriating. She nods her head shortly. With a pointed look, Brooke adjourns to Sharon's bathroom to freshen up.

Sharon fingers the phone. She can't help but think it's ill-advised, calling her married ex-lover to discuss work when her body still lusts after the woman. But Brooke is right; she and Brenda have to work together and the sooner they can do it cooperatively, not just civilly, the sooner they will have truly moved on from their affair. She is somewhat surprised to realize she cares about Brenda enough to want them to get past the lingering awkwardness of their intense physical relationship. She wants to help Brenda, to protect the LAPD and get the softness of Brenda's naked body out of her mind.

Brooke cracks her neck as she steps out from the bathroom, in Sharon's shorts with her pants balled up under her arm. Her hair is clipped off her face, which has clearly been washed. She notices the hand holding her phone hasn't move, but doesn't comment. She gathers up the rest of her clothes and looks at Sharon. "Nora's been taking some time off from work to study for finals." She says. "She's been having some trouble making her rent; I sent her a check last week for this month."

Sharon stretches aching muscles. "I'll get next month." Brooke nods. Swiftly, she leans in and kisses Sharon firmly on the mouth, capturing her lips for long seconds before pulling away. Sharon reaches out to stroke the curve of Brooke's hip.

"Thank you." She says softly and Brooke just smiles, ruffling her hair.

"You know," she offers, her tone amused, "I could always fix you up with one of my interns. There's this one smoking hot twenty six year old sexy thing with enough mommy issues to-" Sharon tosses a pillow at her. Brooke just grins and throws it back.

"Get out of my house." Sharon orders lightly and smacks Brooke's ass as she turns to leave. Brooke throws a saucy wink over her shoulder.

Sharon waits until she hears the front door close before sighing and picking up her phone.

Brenda groans into her pillow when she hears her phone ring. She hadn't been sleeping yet, just hovering in that liminal space between consciousness and unconsciousness where everything is soft and blank and relaxed. She buries her head deeper, praying that it stops, that it's a wrong number, that they hang up. She doesn't care if it's Gabriel with a case or Pope with the next crisis; for the first time in recent memory she doesn't want to work. She doesn't want to see more death, she doesn't want to chase a murderer, she doesn't want to see Sharon and she doesn't want to work with her team while constantly being aware that one of them is betraying her. But the phone keeps ringing.

"Bren." Fritz grumbles from beside her, hand sleepily nudging her hip.

"Alright, alright." She mutters to no one in particular and snatches the offending device from her nightstand. Her eyes widen as she blearily takes in the electronic display. 'Captain Raydor' flashes on her screen and Brenda is shocked, frozen, staring open mouthed at her phone, as if it is playing a trick on her. She stares so confused for so long that the phone stops ringing and she scrambles to answer it, but it's too late. She eyes it, waiting for the little voicemail icon to pop up. She can't imagine why Sharon could be calling her now, what she could possibly want. Unless she wants to see Brenda. Her stomach flips. But no, that can't be it because she was the one who ended things. Well, the one who pointed out that they needed to end things anyway. Brenda takes a deep breath in an effort to calm her raging heart. If it was about a new case she would have already heard about it from Gabriel or Pope. The little voicemail icon doesn't pop up. She waits another thirty seconds. Sharon didn't leave a message.

Sharon drags a hand through her hair. She should have left a message, but when the call had gone to voicemail she had frozen, her words sticking in her throat and she had hung up in panic. Brenda always answers her phone. She answers her phone in the middle of the night, the middle of family meals, when she's on vacation, even two hours after having a root canal too drugged up to even speak. There's a rumor going around that she even answered a call from work five minutes before she was due to walk down the aisle at her wedding. It's late; she glances at the clock that glows 12:01, but it isn't that late. Brenda just doesn't want to talk to her. Not that she blames her.

Brenda is pressing redial before she can stop to think. Sharon called her and so she has to call back. She hears the click that tells her Sharon has picked up and then several seconds of silence. "Chief Johnson." Sharon's melodic voice comes clearly through her phone and Brenda sighs, suddenly relieved for some reason she cannot name.

Sharon hopes her debate over what to call Brenda didn't last long enough for the woman to pick up on it, but she doubts it. The woman picks up on everything. "Captain?" Brenda asks, reverting to her title automatically, but she sounds just a little bit vulnerable.

"I…" Sharon swallows. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

"You didn't." Brenda lies quickly because it doesn't matter. "What's goin' on? Is everythin' alright?"

"Yes." Sharon assures her. "I just wanted…" No, that isn't right. She takes a deep breath. "It's been brought to my…attention…" Sharon sighs. "I thought I should tell you I'm not retiring." She hears Brenda suck in a breath.

"You've decided to stay?" Brenda doesn't even have the energy to camoflauge the hope in her voice. Sharon winces; Brenda is going to be infuriated.

"Not exactly, Chief. I, the job offer was just a red herring. An effort to determine the source of Goldman's information." Brenda is silent and Sharon can practically feel her anger radiating through the phone.

"So you lied to me." Sharon blinks.

"Well, I lied to Pope and Taylor actually who-" Brenda makes a noise of disbelief and cuts her off.

"You let me go on believin' you were retirin' and tryin' to convince you to stay. You knew what I'd been told and you didn't bother correctin' it!"

"Chief-"

"You could've told me so I didn't worry." Sharon's heart thumps in her chest when Brenda admits to worrying about her retirement and when she speaks her voice is must softer.

"I wanted to." She admits. "But then you might have told the leak."

"Why does everybody think I can't be discreet when I need to be?" Sharon resists the urge to say she knows exactly how discreet Brenda can be.

Brenda's shoulders slump in exhaustion. She's glad Sharon isn't leaving, but feels played. She feels used and mistrusted and somehow from Sharon it hurts. Fritz snores and grumbles from beside her. His eyes blink half open and Brenda realizes how loud she had been ranting into her phone. He blinks sleepily and focuses on his wife, sort of.

"Everthin' k?" He manages, heavy eyes fighting to stay open. Brenda pulls the phone away from her ear.

"Everythin's fine, honey." She coos, cupping his face. "Go back to sleep." He nods mindlessly and is snoring the second his head hits the pillow.

Sharon tenses across the line when she hears Brenda talking to Fritz. Surely she hadn't thought the woman would be in her bed alone?

Brenda throws her legs over the side of her bed and pads out of her bedroom. She doesn't want to be talking to Sharon next to Fritz anyway; it's too close, too real. She presses the phone back to her ear. "Well, I'm glad you're not retirin'." Brenda admits grudgingly. "Lord only knows what kind of IA horror Pope would saddle me with if you were gone." Sharon hums through the phone.

"Apparently there is no one else Pope can use to deal with you." Sharon replies, a slight sarcastic edge to her voice. "I'm irreplaceable." Brenda makes a little noise. She would tell the woman that she is, she's an invaluable asset to the LAPD because odds are she doesn't hear it enough, if ever, but right now she's just too mad. "And my senior Lieutenant is absolutely crushed." Sharon goes on. "He surely thought he would have my job."

"Which one is that?" Brenda asks, absently twirling a strand of hair around her finger. She tries to conjure up images of Sharon's team but can't quite place them all.

"Harmon." Brenda is silent. "Older guy, about my age. Gray hair and a Boston accent." Brenda remembers him now and cringes.

"I don't like him."

"Why is that?" Sharon asks, evenly, but Brenda can hear her smile through the phone.

"He stares at my chest." Sharon almost tells Brenda that everybody stares at her chest. Especially when she wears the blue dress.

"I'll be sure to remind him of proper conduct when interacting with a superior officer." Sharon is joking, but she winces to herself when she hears the words that came out of her mouth echo in the receiver. Far be it for her to talk about proper conduct with a superior officer. An image pops into her mind of Brenda naked and sweaty, limbs tangled in Sharon's silk sheets. Maybe Brenda is thinking along the same lines because she is silent on the other end. Sharon bites her lip; she has never felt like this before. She has never been this unsure or this uncomfortable in any situation. She prides herself on always being self-possessed and in control.

The pause is endless and Brenda sighs. This little exchange with Sharon has felt almost normal and the realization imbues her with a certain amount of sadness. They can't keep going on like this.

"Sharon."

"Brenda." They have spoken at the same time, both in the same tentative, unsure tone of voice and Sharon chuckles. Brenda blows out a breath in relief. They are clearly on the same page, clearly feeling the same things. "You go first." Sharon says and Brenda can't help but smirk.

"I never thought I'd see the day." She quips and Sharon laughs through the phone. The sound makes her smile.

"First time for everything."

"I-" Brenda doesn't know what to say. She can't very well tell the woman she has misses her, even though it's true, or that she feels a sense of loneliness she can't define because that's just too honest. "Sharon, I..." She desperately searches for words. Something, anything. It's the middle of the night and she can't waste this opportunity. "I don't like how things are." She mentally berates herself for how inarticulate she sounds. There is a long silence.

"Nor do I." Sharon says simply, though it sounds like she is thinking much more. Brenda waits, but Sharon doesn't say anything else. Sharon doesn't offer anything more; she can't.

"It's nice." Brenda says finally, softly. "Workin' with you cooperatively, gettin' along. But it's not…" She trails off and bites her lip. It's not enough, she wants to say. It's not like kissing you and touching you and being inside of you when you come.

Sharon sighs; she's tired. She's so, so tired. "It's why I don't usually sleep with my co-workers." She replies and Brenda sucks in a sharp breath. There it is; the woman said it, named the problem. The wonderful, delicious problem. They've slept together and Sharon is acknowledging it, that it matters and it feels like the most honest thing she's heard in weeks. "Things get messy, complicated. Work suffers." Brenda can't even think about work right now. She'll probably get fired anyway.

"But you slept with me." She doesn't care that her husband is sleeping lightly a dozen feet away in their bedroom. This needs to be said; she needs to have this conversation with Sharon.

"I did."

"Why?" Brenda asks, softly but firmly. Sharon wants to laugh. Of course the one thing Brenda would ask is the one thing she doesn't know. She has no idea why.

"God help me, I don't know." Sharon says before she can censor herself. "Why did you sleep with me?"

Brenda thinks back to that night all those weeks ago, the first time she gave into her desire for Sharon, to the begging and pleading of her body. "I don't know." She admits quietly. "You were just so…" She sighs and tries again. "What I felt was so…" Wonderful? Different? Irresistible? Are there even words for how Sharon made her feel when they had sex?

Sharon sighs over the phone. "I know what you mean." It's not quite an admission that she wants and desires and craves Brenda but it's as far as Sharon can make herself go.

"And lately I've been…havin' problems…with…everything." Brenda steels herself. "With what happened between us. I don't know…I don't know where we stand, where we ever stood."

Sharon can't help but smile at that. "Chief Johnson always likes her cases closed." Brenda smiles softly at the affection in her voice.

"I do." She acknowledges lightly.

"Well, you could always chalk it up to a bi-curious mid-life crisis." Sharon offers, only half kidding.

"I could." Brenda agrees, but in a moment of courage adds, "But that wouldn't be the truth."

"Seven year itch in your marriage?"

Brenda hums. "More likely, maybe, but still not right. It doesn't explain…" She takes a deep breath, suddenly feeling like she has reached the edge of something. "It doesn't explain how I feel about you." These next few minutes will change her life, she knows it, and her heart rate speeds up.

Sharon is silent for a long time. "And how do you feel about me, Brenda?" Sharon isn't sure she wants to know; she isn't even sure it matters, but she can't stop herself from asking.

"I don't know." Brenda's voice is trembling and Sharon feels a tug in her heart. "I…care about you." It's the truth and when Brenda admits it, the walls of her kitchen don't come crashing down around her shoulders. "I care about you more than I ever thought I could. I…I think about you. A lot. I miss the Sharon I was getting to know when we…when we were alone together. You're…special." Brenda takes a shaky breath. "But I love my husband." And that's the truth, too.

"I know you do." Sharon says, without a trace of bitterness. "Your marriage…you have a good marriage, Brenda."

"I know." Brenda's throat tightens. "And I feel so guilty…"

"What we did was wrong."

"No." Brenda interjects sharply. She knows she is a married woman and that Sharon is her subordinate officer, but she can't go that far. She can't make herself go as far as to say their affair was wrong. Not when she remembers how gentle Sharon was when she held her, how warm her embrace was, how sweet her kiss and how knowledgeably Sharon pleasured her body. There is just no way something that felt so good and so right can be wrong. "I don't feel guilty for what we did." As she says it, her eyes widen. She realizes it's true. She feels guilty for being unfaithful and for continuing to think about Sharon and Sharon's body and Sharon's touch on her skin, but she doesn't feel guilty about sleeping with woman. If she felt guilty, it would mean she regretted it and she can't bring herself to regret it.

Sharon stares at the phone with raised eyebrows. She can't be sure, but she thought she just heard Brenda say she doesn't feel guilty about sleeping with her. But that can't be right. The woman is married. And straight. "What do you feel guilty about, then?"

Brenda takes a deep breath; she's come this far. She might as well go all in. "I can't stop thinking about you." When Sharon's gasp meets her ears, she knows she has made the right decision.

"Brenda." Sharon's head is spinning and she has to stop her. She has to stop Brenda from going any further because she will make it about thirty seconds before she breaks under the weight of her desire. She just climaxed with Brooke, but she feels arousal and need and heat settling low in her belly. Thirty seconds until she begs Brenda to come over so she can pull her into her arms and touch her everywhere and watch her face contort with pleasure and bury her face between her strong thighs and never leave the warmth of her Chief.

"I can't." Brenda continues. "I think about you all the time, how you were with me. How amazin'. And then I see you at a crime scene and you're so…" She swallows. "I don't understand."

Sharon vehemently shakes her head, even though Brenda can't see her. "I think about you, too, Brenda Leigh. All the time, constantly." It isn't only alarm bells that are going off in her head. Fog horns and sirens and emergency alerts are wailing and she knows she should stop. She should hang up the phone right now but she can't. The words are pouring out of her mouth without her consent. "I think about how it felt to hold you in my arms and touch you everywhere. Your skin, Brenda. Your skin is so soft." Brenda feels it tingle. "Your-" Sharon clears her throat and chokes back her words, swallowing the sounds. "No." She manages. "No." This time she is more forceful. "We can't. We can't talk like this. We were doing well. We were doing so well, Chief." She forces herself to use the woman's rank, to remind herself that this is her boss, a higher ranking officer, and not the woman who shuddered above her as she rode her face.

"Sharon. My Sharon." All the heat is gone from her Captain's voice and for Brenda, the loss of the woman Sharon is a physical pain. "Please…" She doesn't even know what she is asking for.

"No." Sharon's voice is stronger now. "What we had was…it was wonderful, Brenda." Her tone is reverent now. "You are so wonderful." And then she is all business again. "But there's nowhere for us to go with this, there's nothing more for us to do. We have to focus on this lawsuit."

Brenda makes a noise of frustration. She is done with this lawsuit. She doesn't want to talk about it and she doesn't want to think about it. She wants to think about Sharon, about how Sharon was in bed with her, how warm and silky she feels inside. "That isn't true, Sharon." She won't use Sharon's rank, she refuses. She will hold on to every personal bit of the woman she can. "You still want me, I can hear it in your voice. And I still want you, too."

"Well, sometimes you don't get what you want." Sharon nearly snaps. "You're married, Chief and this isn't fair to Fritz." Brenda reels back like she has been slapped; she has never heard Sharon use her husband's name before, never heard the word in her husky voice and something about hearing her name the man she's married to is like a kick to her gut. She is struck dumb and Sharon goes on. "And if we were to…" She doesn't' have to say what she is thinking. The insinuation pounds between Brenda's legs. "It wouldn't be fair to me. Stolen moments, stolen hours, a night here or there. Hiding, lying, sneaking around, risking your marriage every time we…that's no way to live." Sharon finishes quietly. "And I deserve better. So do you. And so does your husband." The hand not holding the phone to her ear is shaking minutely and Sharon takes a shuddering breath.

Brenda knows she's right, but she can't let it go. It can't be that simple. Or that difficult. "So that's it, then?" Brenda challenges quietly. "I still want you and you still want me and you know all you would have to do is tell me to come over." Her last statement is almost accusatory, as if the only thing keeping them from surrendering to bliss in each other's arms is Sharon's reticence to invite her over. "Tell me to come over, Sharon." Brenda entreats, but Sharon is silent. "So what, then? We just live with this? Go on and do our jobs and stay professionally distant every damn day and pretend we don't want to fuck each other?"

"I think that's the only thing left to do, Chief." The words burn like bile in Sharon's throat, even if they are the ones she should be saying.

Brenda's breath is heavy in her chest. Sharon is right, she knows Sharon is right, but every cell in her body is telling her walking away from the woman is wrong. Sharon cares about her and she cares about Sharon and Brenda knows, just knows, that if she didn't have that ring on her finger, she would already be halfway to Sharon's house. She twirls the band. As if Sharon can see her, or knows what she's thinking, her voice comes softly through the phone. "You can't throw away a seven year relationship and your marriage for good sex with a female co-worker. You're smarter than that, Chief." And Sharon doesn't say it, but she is smart enough not to let Brenda do it, thinking the woman wouldn't resent her for the rest of their lives.

"I know." Brenda admits. She wants to tell Sharon how overpowering her desire is, how desperate her longing and how much it scares her, but it doesn't matter.

"You should go back to bed, Chief." Sharon needs to end this phone call; she can't handle much more of this. "I'll see you at work tomorrow."

"Alright." When Brenda speaks, her voice sounds so small and Sharon's arms ache to wrap around her slender frame. "Take care, Sharon." Brenda is overcome by the feeling that she will never see the woman again, even though they'll be working together in less than six hours.

"You as well, Chief. I…" Sharon wants to say something, to mark this end, but is suddenly at a loss for words.

"You gave me somethin' wonderful." Brenda says suddenly, quietly. "And I may have to pretend I don't want it anymore, but I won't ever forget it. Sharon…" She savors the feel of the woman's name in her mouth, the syllables resting on her tongue.

There is a hole in her throat and Sharon can barely get her next words out. "Good bye, Chief." She hangs up her phone and drops her head into her hands, shuddering wracking her entire frame. Dizzily, she wonders when this spiraled so out of control.

Sharon stands on shaky legs and makes her way back to her empty bedroom. She knows she did the right thing, refusing to give in to her desire for Brenda, but she can't help but think that the woman would really have left her husband's bed to come to Sharon's. And Sharon is briefly seized with fear at the thought that with that kind of desire still hot between them, this is far from being over. She resisted tonight, but she isn't foolish enough to think she won't still want Brenda tomorrow.

**A/N 2: The angst will be over next chapter, I promise. Because even I can't take it anymore. **


End file.
